


featherfall

by 6am



Category: A3! (Video Game)
Genre: A3! Rarepair Week, Alternate Universe - Guardian Angels, M/M, this is just dramatic angsty bs idk what else to say
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-13
Updated: 2020-07-13
Packaged: 2021-03-04 22:53:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,460
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25244194
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/6am/pseuds/6am
Summary: Azuma learns of Homare's existence by chance.A3! Rarepair Week Day 1 - Adoration
Relationships: Arisugawa Homare/Yukishiro Azuma
Comments: 6
Kudos: 31
Collections: A3! Rare Pairs Week 2020





	featherfall

**Author's Note:**

> (does the splits) (holds up a sign over my head that says azumare propaganda week) (doesnt get up bc i am stuck in the splits)
> 
> bonus accidental kind of rarepair bc the chikage/azuma kind of snuck its way in? idk this is ridiculous enjoy the ride. also like? computers in heaven? whatever man its fanfiction idk whats going on lol
> 
> mild spoilers for uhhhhhh almost everything with chikage and hisoka, nothing too explicit though. idk if the name i used is just fanon or not but just know that thats supposed to be august

Azuma learns of Homare's existence by chance. 

Guardian angels usually don't have to do much besides putter about heaven a bit aimlessly unless their human lives a bit too adventurously. Even then it's mostly a few strings pulled, a few cars or falling objects tugged away if things get too dicey. Humans tend to live mostly boring lives, and even angels can't tempt fate too much, even if it means that they ultimately end up failing at their only job. 

Azuma's family couldn't be saved, even as he prayed and pleaded and cried. His brother only held on for a few days longer than their parents and was the only one to have just a flicker of recognition as he'd been led from his body by Azuma's shaking hands. 

He has much more free time now without any assignments. There isn't much else to do besides peer down on the living and try to find something interesting when he isn't helping others who actually have work to do. There’s a lot to learn about so many humans on earth just over others shoulders and through conversation while helping them organize documents and helping with wing upkeep.

It happens when he's with Chikage, the quiet only broken by the tapping of his keyboard and then a very long sigh. 

"I swear he knows I'm watching," Chikage says, wings twitching with annoyance, "It was always funny when I was annoyed with how he still can't keep himself awake. If he missed another appointment with that doctor I'm going down just to drag him there."

The playful little look in his eye silently adds the "just kidding" that usually follows anything close to sincere Chikage ever says when they make eye contact as Azuma looks over from where he's shuffling papers, but the tight line of his shoulders screams for a chance to do _something._

Azuma smiles, reaching for the still twitching wings threatening to undo his careful puttering about to catch one of Chikage's feathers between two fingers. "You look like you've already made a few trips just now." One comes loose even under the gentle pressure, and Azuma carefully inspects the ragged edges. "You're hardly looking angelic like this, Chikage~."

"Vanity hardly suits an angel." Chikage flicks his wing and a few more feathers twirl their way down onto the clouds below, but he only flinches a tiny bit when Azuma comes to stand behind him. "We can't all have such beautiful, luxurious feathers like you, Azuma-san." 

"This is just maintenance, not vanity, and this is basically my job now, anyway." Azuma starts the slow preening, untangling and gently rolling pin feathers free of their sheaths in the hard to reach spots while Chikage continues his observation of Hisoka. "Where is he now? This place looks different."

Hisoka is sprawled out on a very cushy looking chaise lounge, half asleep even as the other human bustles around the space with enough vigor to make Azuma weary. Sound doesn't travel very well this far, but a few faint shouts of what might be joy come through. 

"He's joined a theater company. His roommate is... _quaint._ "

Azuma watches as the lanky man with a strange haircut resorts to poking Hisoka's cheek in his attempts to wake him. "Seems like it."

Chikage almost laughs, a huff that dies halfway from his throat. "Arisugawa Homare. Poet, apparently decently popular with some niche audiences. Scouted by the director from the street." More keys click, and Azuma leans in to see the slightly grainy image of Homare rummaging around before unearthing a bag of marshmallows with a triumphant expression. 

"He's cute, don't you think?"

Chikage takes off his glasses and rubs his temples, shaking his head. "Only you, Azuma-san."

* * *

It goes like that for a while. Azuma finds more time for Chikage to watch the Hisoka and Homare Show, and Chikage lets him invade his carefully made corner of heaven. Azuma keeps records in order and receives updates on two of the most entertaining humans he's come across so far. 

Homare is definitely _quaint_. He maintains a very proper appearance, if proper can be defined with obnoxiously bright patterned dress clothes and an asymmetrical haircut that Homare maintains himself. He has no acting experience but he steals the show with his dramatic flair and moves like he's always owned his position as an actor. He almost always has a little bowl of carrots to munch on while he taps away at his keyboard and scribbles things down in his notebooks, and even Chikage had cracked a smile at his latest endeavor to try and sneak Hisoka a carrot sandwiched between two marshmallows.

Azuma wonders idly if this is what it's like to be human, watching someone else through something like a screen late at night. Angels don't need much sleep, and how could he even think of closing his eyes when Homare is just so interesting. It also helps that Chikage rarely steps away from his only view down on Hisoka, even if he isn't his assigned human to guard. 

Misha had died painfully, shrieking even in death and wailing for April and December. Chikage has also become aimless without an assignment, though his careful watch over Hisoka rivals even Tsumugi's diligence over his childhood friend. 

Azuma's near constant spot behind Chikage to absently preen while watching Homare and Hisoka has become a habit, maybe even bonding. Chikage's wings had become near useless after Misha, the pale grassy color of his feathers muddled and unkempt before Azuma's soothing touches. He's just as quiet now as he was back then, but his eyes are focused and bright instead of glassy and unfeeling after seeing far too much. 

What they have isn't exactly friendship, but even in heaven misery loves company. 

* * *

  
  


Tonight Homare is home late from rehearsal, his workspace cleared for his script and a troubled look on his face. He's so cute when he's this focused, but his frown is deeper than it usually is and he keeps rubbing at his eyes. Humans definitely need sleep, and it's been dark for a while now down below. 

Azuma sighs along with Homare, though his is for his favorite human's lack of sleep rather than something about a script. Chikage isn't at the computer for once, leaving Azuma to watch as closely as he likes. He frowns at the Homare on screen, looking around to make sure he won't be interrupted before letting his hands hover over the keys. It's a bit of a waste to do something so small, but Azuma can't stand to see another sleepless night where Homare looks so horribly sad compared to his cheerfully eccentric usual. Azuma doesn't know nearly as much as Chikage, but he can do just enough to get his point across. The enter key pushes down with a soft clack, and a few moments later a gentle breeze passes in through Homare's open window. 

Homare looks up from his work, blinking at the window and then rubbing at his eyes again. It works well enough, and Azuma smiles to himself as Homare finally shuffles off to bed. There. No harm done, just a bit of a push to keep him healthy. It's the least Azuma can do after all. 

He could say goodnight, but sound doesn't travel well so far, so Azuma waits for Homare to turn out the lights and settle into bed before going back to his own business, finding a perfectly fluffy cloud to cuddle into and stretch his wings out for his daily preening routine. 

Azuma watches silently as an unusual amount of feathers come loose just from a pass with his palm. The long and usually snow white feathers have grown dull, and Azuma can't seem to keep them in perfect order like he always has. There's a constant itch that just can't seem to be scratched somewhere deep in the hollow bones, leaving him heavy. 

By the time Chikage comes back Azuma is cuddled deep into the cloud, asleep. 

* * *

  
  


"He would be absolutely horrified to see you, you know."

Azuma frowns and looks over his shoulder where Chikage is combing his fingers through Azuma's wings-- a rare offer that Chikage had held strong to even after Azuma's teasing and put on embarrassment over Chikage of all angels to offer something so intimate. Which of course doesn't hold up when Azuma has his hands all over someone's wings at almost any given moment. "Pardon?"

Chikage looks up from his task, the lenses of his glasses catching a quick glare of a light. "You've been lazy with these, Azuma-san," Chikage nods toward the growing pile of flight feathers that have come loose, "I've never seen your wings anything but pristine."

Azuma shakes his head with a soft laugh, practiced and much easier now that nearly everyone has commented on his frankly shabby appearance. He curls the one Chikage isn't preening around his front and is met with dull grays instead of glimmering silver. They aren't getting any better, ragged in a way that makes Azuma's heart thud nervously. 

He brushes his hand over the top edge of his wing slowly. "Maybe I'm going through a molt, don't tease me too much." Chikage only hums in reply, and Azuma only barely feels the pinch when he works another feather loose. "You've gotten better at this." He adds, hoping that Chikage will take the bait and change the subject. 

Chikage stays quiet, because it's easier to sit silently through lies. Humans aren't meant to see angels. Everyone knows the stories of humans who manage even a glimpse and either go mad or die of fright on the spot. Azuma wonders idly if he'd appear with rotating crowns of thorns and several limbs or an abstract shape if he were to fall. They both know who Chikage is talking about, and why he's trying to work Azuma free from where he's landed himself. 

He isn't molting. His wings feel barren and cold, and even Chikage's delicate work is painful. The root between his shoulder blades throbs with his heartbeat. A handful of feathers comes loose when Azuma lets his wing settle behind his back again, but thankfully Chikage pretends not to notice. On the computer screen nearby Hisoka is helping Homare on a trip to the grocery store, the two blissfully unaware of what's going on above them. 

Azuma is in love, and he's dying. 

* * *

The fall is sudden and slow at the same time. Azuma keeps mostly to himself as his wings slowly rot and shrivel, watching Homare continue daily life without a care in the world. And he shouldn't have any, there's no way for him to know that an angel has become infatuated with him and is slowly falling apart to show for it. Chikage doesn't comment on it, but finds more and more time away from Azuma, leaving him to watch and try to put the endless throbbed pain out of his mind. 

Until the day he slips through. 

There's no shock, no plummeting downward into oblivion. Azuma blinks, and then he's standing in a noisy street with people easily maneuvering around him where he stands. The sun feels different down here, bright and hot and overwhelming. The street is familiar, only like reading about a place before you're chucked into it headfirst. Veludo Way is even more alive from within. 

It's so disorienting that Azuma nearly tumbles to the ground when a passerby bumps into his side, only just catching himself. His wings are gone, leaving something dreadfully hollow that keeps crawling its way into his chest and up his throat. 

"Oh dear, are you alright? Standing around isn't the best idea, my friend."

Azuma looks up, staring right into Homare's face. He's beautiful, heartbreakingly so this close, his voice curved with that near permanent smirky smile he can't ever seem to take off in public. Homare tilts his head, adorable with his quizzical look. "Are you lost? Or simply stunned by my presence?"

Azuma laughs, letting the sound steal nearly everything his has left. Homare joins him without question, so perfectly strange and uncaring for the absurdity of the situation. Azuma reigns himself in, wiping at his eyes even though they well up all over again. 

"Arisugawa!" Someone calls from farther away, and even with his vision blurring at the edges he can recognize Tasuku. Tsumugi's Tasuku, looking annoyed but like he's doing well. Azuma's heart breaks more when he realizes that he won't be able to tell Tsumugi he has nothing to worry about. 

"Don't mind me, sorry for keeping you." He looks to Homare's face, committing every feature to memory despite how little time he has left to think about them. Tasuku starts tapping his foot while he impatiently stares at the back of Homare's head. "But I'll be on my way now, thank you... Homare."

Azuma turns on his heel and walks as quickly as his trembling legs allow, letting the crowd envelop him to escape Homare's delayed reaction and calls for him to wait, that he definitely has time for any of his fans. But Azuma keeps walking, closing his eyes and letting himself fade out to Homare's voice, finally clear and above the surrounding noise. 

  
  


_Homare sighs, letting himself wallow in the despair of yet another too shy appreciator of the arts. Oh well, time to hurry back and make sure Tasuku doesn't pull something getting mad about it._

_"If you run off one more time..." Tasuku shakes his head. "Let's go, we should go the next street over to hand out these flyers."_

_"Very well! I was hoping to get rid of one more but alas..." Homare fans himself with the remaining flyers and sighs. "How fleeting this life is, don't you think? Ah, I'm reminded of my most recent article- you read that one no? It was such a-- ah, Tasuku-kun?"_

_Tasuku fantasizes about throwing Homare into the nearest river and calling it a day. "What."_

_Homare reaches for something on Tasuku's shoulder, considering it with a furrowed brow. "Strange... say, do you know what kind of bird this belongs to?"_

_Tasuku glances over, surprising himself with how taken he is by the feather Homare is holding up. It's huge, like the ridiculous quill Homare insists on writing with, but tinged with green and a pristine white at the quill._

_"Huh."_

_"Indeed." Homare drags his finger slowly up the side, marveling at the softness. "Looks like we've been given a prop! Oh, how about you are the bird. You can give out flyers like a bird, can't you? Just use your mouth!"_

_Tasuku picks up the pace, letting his stride go long to try and keep distance between himself and Homare's terrible ideas. "Not a chance."_

**Author's Note:**

> catch me on twt @its_6_am


End file.
